


HungUp

by redeem147



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeem147/pseuds/redeem147
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike left something behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	HungUp

Buffy fondled the sleeve of Spike’s duster, then hung it back in her closet, starting to close the door. “Hey!” a voice cried. She pulled open the door and searched through the assorted hanging blouses and dresses, but there was no one there. She shook her head, a little concerned that she was hearing things, and closed the door.

 

She left her room and entered her sister’s. “You say something, Dawn?”

 

The teenager looked up from her book, as she lay on the bed on her stomach. “No. Why?”

 

“Were you listening to your stereo?”

 

“No. I’m trying to read a book. Get ready for school by stretching my brain. You remember. That thing you wanted me to do?” Dawn looked back down at the page. “So bug off, Buffy.”

 

Buffy shut her sister’s door behind her and went back into her bedroom. She dimmed the lights and climbed under the covers. She heard it again. “Hey.” It was muffled this time. Definitely coming from the closet.

 

She creeped from under her comforter and tentatively opened the closet door. “I said ‘hey’!” The voice was louder. “Let me out.”

 

“Where are you?” Buffy asked. Maybe her closet was a transdimentional portal. Maybe there was a tiny sentient creature trapped on the floor. Maybe she’d gone nuts.

 

“I’m right here where you left me, pet. Take me down.”

 

The voice was like Spike’s, but it wasn’t. “I didn’t leave you anywhere. I don’t even know who you are.”

 

“Sure you do, luv. You just hung me back up. Don’t think anyone knows I’m here. You’re big on the cover up, ain’t you, pet?”

 

This was insane. She pulled Spike’s duster from its hanger and lay it on the bed. “I’m hearing things.”

 

“Hearin’ me, more like. And oh, it’s nice to stretch out. Not that I don’t appreciate bein’ squashed between your frillies and satins, but a guy needs to get aired out, once in a while.”

 

“Coats can’t talk.” She was talking to a coat. She was insane.

 

“Oh, right. And vampires exist, and vengeance demons. Not to mention little girls crawlin’ out of their graves. It’s a funny old world, innit?”

 

“So, did you have anything in particular to tell me, because I want to get to sleep. And you’re covering my bed.”

 

“It’s all about you, innit,” the coat sighed. “Well, yeah, did want to speak my piece. What the bloody hell were you doin’ to my mate Spike? What does a bloke have to do to get you to admit how you feel, eh?”

 

“Don’t you start,” Buffy pouted.

 

“Let me speak my bit and I’ll be back in the closet in two shakes. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Get stabbed in the back and thrown off a tower tryin’ to save your sister? Oh, wait. If you’ll feel the little gash in m’ side, you’ll see he’d been there, done that.”

 

“I know he loves Dawn. That wasn’t the point.” But she did put her fingers through the hole Doc had made.

 

“So, what’s your idea of the perfect man, then? Someone who loves you madly and can shag you silly? Someone who’d die for you, for your family? Maybe even for your friends? Or is it that impotent poofter Angel? He’s a right piece a work, killing your Watcher’s honey and tryin’ to end the world.”

 

Buffy crossed her arms and glared. “Leave Angel out of this. Besides, that wasn’t him. It was Angelus. They aren’t the same at all.”

 

“Right. And if that’s true, I’m a Chanel Suit. Besides, don’t compare apples n’ oranges. Leavin’ the soul out, you gotta compare Spike to Angelus, not your precious Angel. And from where I lie, there’s no contest. Spike’s ten times the man he was, soul or no.”

 

“You don’t know what Spike did. Tried to do. Before he left. He...he tried to force himself on me. It was horrible.” She was crying. She wiped her eyes. Crying in front of a coat.

 

“Oh, that’s rough. Sorry pet. I didn’t know. No wonder he left. Musta felt the guilt somethin’ awful.”

 

Buffy sniffed back the tears. “Guilt?”

 

“Sure. Doin’ somethin’ that desperate. Couldn’t a had anythin’ to do with you, though, could it? Dumpin’ him. Cor, how he cried. Then there was that beatin’ you gave him in the alley. Look at my lining. Under the lapel.”

 

Buffy fingered the fabric. “There’s something dried there.”

 

“Course,” the coat said. “His blood. No matter now. He’s gone, int he?”

 

“I want him to come back,” she whispered.

 

“What’s that, love? Speak up. I’m not a new coat, ya know. Don’t hear as well as I used to.”

 

“I said, I want him to come back. I think.”

 

“Because you love him.”

 

Buffy picked up the duster from the bed. “Now you do sound like him.”

 

“Time to go back in the closet, now then, I reckon?”

 

“No,” said Buffy, easing her arms though the armholes and wrapping the garment around herself. “Not just yet.”


End file.
